


Day One: Tomorrow

by Messi10_Neymar11



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Day One: Tomorrow, FC Barcelona, Flashbacks, Juventus FC, Legends, M/M, Mystery, Puzzles, Real Madrid CF, Repeated Dream, cressiweek2k18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-17 19:01:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16101836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Messi10_Neymar11/pseuds/Messi10_Neymar11
Summary: Cristiano Ronaldo keeps having the same dream in the same place, dressed in the same clothes, and always at the exact same time.There seems to be no escape from it— almost as if something is holding him back. As if there is something he needs to solve.And so what if Lionel Messi keeps appearing in those dreams?It doesn’t change a thing.Not at all.





	Day One: Tomorrow

_Cristiano sits up sluggishly with slight alarm, blinking his eyes open while blearily looking around him._

_Soft lamp lights illuminate the large and grand room, giving it life. Rows of cherrywood tables are spread out in front of him in orderly and neat rows, dark wine colored cushioned seats outlined by the same wood are pushed in evenly across both sides of each table, four per each._

_Bright chandelier lights above him shine high like stars in the night sky, rows and rows of tower sized sheleves surround his sides, filled with what feels like millions upon millions of rough leathered and soft paged books. Spiral staircases lead to a different leveled balconies above him._

_A grandfather clock to his left reads 11:55 pm._

_”A library?” He murmurs to himself in soft confusion, sitting up straighter from where he was slumped over a table. “Why... Why am I in a library?”_

_He stands, looking down. He’s dressed in a black long sleeved sweater and black Nike joggers with some running shoes. “How’d I end up here?” He looks around, no one in sight. “Where is everyone?”_

_Slowly, he walks away from where he was apparently sleeping, letting his palm run against the cold and smooth wood of the tables by him as he observes the beautiful room, trying to find another person._

_His hand runs against something incredibly thin— like a strand of hair. He looks down with furrowed brows of confusion, eyes curious. He’s met with a single bright red thread tied to the leg of the table. He pulls on the flimsy strand, letting it unravel._

_He slowly wraps the thread around his hand pulling on it gently. Something prevents it from pulling away on the other side and he looks over curiously, noticing how the thread wraps around over the corner of one of the shelves._

_He follows it in wonder, letting his hand continue to twist around the thread. He goes around the corner. His feet are loud against the tiled floor as he approaches the second section of the bookshelf in front of him, where the red thread stops._

_It’s tied to a thick book with a bright white hard cover, different from all the others that are painted a soothing range of browns and reds, even blacks._

_Cristiano tugs rougher, watching the book fall out of the shelf and onto the floor, opened. He’s about to walk over when he notices something to his right._

_A man._

_He was walking quickly down the hall, as if he was running from something._

_”Hey!” Cristiano calls out, turning his full attention over. “Do you know where I am? I don’t know how I ended up here.” The man stops abruptly for a moment, before he continues on, even faster than before— practically running now._

_Cristiano blinks, quick to follow after, his feet moving to their own accord. “Hey! I’m talking to yo— where are you going!?”_

_For some reason..._

_That body looked familiar._

_Now completely intrigued, he walks fast with determination after the man, following as he turns the corner to turn the corner himself._

 

_He stops abruptly._

_The man is gone. Cristiano shakes his head, bewildered. He looks around the whole area, wondering where the hell he could’ve gone. Like a ghost, he vanishes into thin air— as if he hadn’t been there at all._

_Turning with slight frustration, his eyes catch sight of the bright white book left lying on the floor, opened._

_With a huff, he walks back over and picks the book up, looking inside. His body freezes when he sees the picture of Lionel Messi, jumped two feet into the air with his head grazing the side of the ball into the net past a goalie’s hand. In the corner of the picture he can see a man standing in the distance, clad in a familiar white Manchester United jersey. He’s staring back at his own face of shock._

_The book falls from his hands to the floor once again in disbelief._

__

_**“Barcelona man... I can’t believe this.” Rio Ferdinand says in utter disappointment, looking down to the ground in a defeated slump to avoid the desperate gaze of fans filing out the stadium over the roaring cheers of the Barcelona fans.** _

__

_**”Gerard annoyed me the most. Celebrating as if he didn’t just win against his old team. Some loyalty, huh.” Wayne practically snarls out glaring at the floor as if he wanted to burn holes through the grass.** _

__

_**”Loyalty?” Cristiano murmurs.** _

__

_**His teammates turn back to gaze at him curiously. Cristiano is too busy staring up at the cheering Cules, eyes unwavering and bright. His right hand is clenched around the circular cold second place metal, face calm.** _

__

_**“Barcelona engraved it’s signature on him. Manchester merely painted over it.”** _

__

_**His eyes met theirs, blank. “And paint washes off quicker than you’d think. Scars are forever.”** _

__

_**He’s stunned them to silence, watching as he walks with his head held up high and face passive over to the tunnels. A small figure crosses his path as he descends down the steps and he’s met with wide brown eyes filled with surprise, a young, boyish face staring back at him with a Barcelona jersey clinging to his body of thin sweat. Cheeks pink and hair pulled back, Cristiano knows who it is.** _

__

_**”Hi.” The boy surprises him by saying, voice quiet and reserved.** _

__

_**”Messi.” Cristiano nods firmly, the name never leaving his lips until tonight— never thought of, never remembered, or even heard of until tonight.** _

__

_**Messi seems surprised, lips parting. Cristiano, however, simply brushes past him to continue his trek to the locker rooms.** _

__

_**”Lionel.”** _

__

_**He stops.** _

__

_**When he turns, Messi is standing in front of him, fiddling nervously with his fingers. “My name is Lionel Messi.”** _

__

_**Cristiano blinks. “Cristiano Ronaldo.”** _

__

_**And Messi gives him the brightest smile that he’s ever witnessed in his life, eyes warm and kind— leaving him suddenly breathless.** _

__

_**”Nice to meet you.”** _

__

_**Something in the air changes.** _

_The clock strikes midnight._

 

-

 

Cristiano gasps awake, hand pressed over his racing heart as he sits up in bed, his alarm blaring in a constant and irritating manner. A sheen layer of cold sweat rests over his bare and shaking body as he stares out the window into the city of Turin, Italy. 

 

He calms, body stops shaking as he rubs a hand down his face, gently gripping the strands of his hair. “What the hell, Cristiano.” He mutters to himself. 

 

-

 

Cristiano unties his laces, yanking his cleats off and setting them into the cubby under his side of the bench.

 

He stares for a moment at the Juventus symbol on the far wall across him, lost in a daze.

 

“Leo didn’t make top 3!?” A voice suddenly exclaims from a few seats down from where he was sitting, disrupting his thoughts.

 

Cristiano turns sharply to see Paulo staring at his phone screen in shock, mouth wide open.

 

”Close your mouth, Paulo. You’ll catch flies.” Juan snorts.

 

”Leo didn’t make top 3! Can you believe this!?” Paulo exclaims once more, showing his phone to the others in disbelief.

 

”What are you talking about?” Cristiano asks, maybe a little too harshly because Paulo flinches, turning to him with wide eyes and a face of nervousness. 

 

“L-Leo... He was shortlisted.” Paulo stammers, holding out his phone to Cristiano.

 

Feeling bad at his snappish response, he ruffles Paulo’s hair gently before grabbing the phone to peer at the list.

 

 _Mohammad Salah? Didn’t Leo beat him for the Golden Boot? What bullshit._ Cristiano thinks to himself, shoving the phone back to Paulo, not caring if he came off mean anymore. Angrily, he yanks his training jersey off and throws it into his locker.

 

Paulo flinches when Cristiano slams the locker door shut viciously, shoving his T-shirt on before leaving the locker room with a loud bang of the door.

 

Juan turns to him with a bewildered expression. “What happened to him?”

 

Paulo shrugs innocently, just as confused.

 

-

 

_Cristiano blinks awake blearily, moving his head up from where it was resting on his arms. However, when he sees where he’s at, he freezes once more._

 

_It’s the same library. Just as grand and spacious as it was the first time._

 

_He looks dowh at his clothes in panic, horrified at the realization that he’s wearing the same exact thing he was the first time he woke up here. Looking up, he can see another red thread— tied to a different leg of a table._

 

_”What the hell is going on?” He breaths to himself, hands clenching in his hair with shut eyes of frustration._

 

_He looks at the clock._

 

_11:55 pm._

 

_His teeth clench._

 

_He stands, movements incredibly slow. He walks over and lets his fingers slowly yank the red thread loose from the leg of the table._

 

_It takes him to a different path, down straight and towards the left side of the shelves._

 

_He follows it, face grim upon seeing the familiar pure white book tucked into the top most shelf, wrapped by the red thread._

 

_With a deep breath he pulls hard, the book falling off and onto the floor, once again opened to a specific page. Cristiano is nervous to look inside._

 

_He hears quick footsteps behind him and his head turns fast, and just like last time the same familiar looking man is back, also dressed in the same exact— and just like before he’s running fast down the pathway._

 

_Cristiano’s first clench and his body turns, chasing after the man. “STOP!”_

 

_The man turns left and once again, vanishes._

 

_Cristiano kicks a chair in frustration. “Why am I here!?”_

 

_Walking back he pauses to stare at the book still lying on the floor face down. With much hesitation, he picks it up and turns it around._

 

_This time, it’s a picture of Leo on the ground, getting tripped on by Sergio while Cristiano himself was hovering over him with the most irritated face possible._

 

_**Cristiano doesn’t think twice. He never thinks twice when he does the things he does. It’s why he always gets himself into trouble without meaning to.**_

 

_**He runs forward, already annoyed at losing this badly— how could he possibly let him do another?** _

 

_**That’s the only thing running through his mind as his arm slams into Lionel Messi’s back and his leg shifts into his path, causing the smaller man to go tumbling down to the floor between Cristiano and Xabi Alonso.**_

 

_**Sergio runs into the curled body on the floor, cleats scrapping harshly over the Barça man’s back and Cristiano does feel bad upon noticing Leo’s body flinch in slight pain.** _

 

_**The Argentine sits up quickly, eyes turning to look up at him in innocent wonder but Cristiano throws a hand up visciously into the air while turning his back to the man staring at him so he isn’t consumed by guilt, visibly frustrated.** _

 

_**When the referee blows his whistle, Cristiano dramatically pats his arm with vigor. When he glances over and sees Xavi helping a smiling Leo up he’s confused as to why the younger man is laughing. Was it to spite him? Cristiano’s jaw clenched, internally seething at the thought of the other man mocking him like that.** _

 

_**He should go over and apologize, yet his pride wouldn’t allow it.** _

 

_**The game ends and Cristiano angrily climbs down the stairs to leave, not wanting to talk to anyone.** _

 

_**A familiar body brushes past him softly, and Cristiano almost throws him into a wall, glaring at the imprinted MESSI on the jersey in front of him. “I forgive you.”** _

 

_**Cristiano stops dead in his tracks. “I didn’t apologize.” He practically snarls, but internally his heart is pounding against his chest, warm.** _

 

_**”I know.” Leo turns to him, eyes sparking and a soft grin growing on his face. Cristiano is caught frozen, unable to move.** _

 

_**”I forgive you anyway.”** _

 

_**Then he climbs up the steps and disappears behind one of the doors.** _

 

_**Cristiano slams a fist against the wall in fury, cheeks flamed red in embarrassment and anger, eyes burning.** _

 

_**Because he really doesn't deserve forgiveness.** _

_The clock strikes midnight._

 

_-_

 

Cristiano is startled awake once more, heart racing and shining with thin sweat. The morning sun rays from the windows illuminates his room as the soft beeps of the alarm invade his ears.

 

He slams the alarm shut with more force than needed, cupping his face.

 

_Why is he fucking thinking of Lionel Messi?_

 

-

 

“Leo finally shaved!” Paulo laughs loudly.

 

Cristiano glares at the other man momentarily. Not only was he constantly dreaming about Lionel Messi, but Paulo was also always here to say something about the Argentine captain. 

 

“I think he looks good!” Paulo blabbers. “I’m surprised he shaved it off, actually.”

 

Cristiano sees the picture of a grinning Leo in his Barça training gear, baby smooth cheeks making him look younger. 

 

He also thinks it looks good, but his lips stayed sealed shut, looking away and acting like stuff like that didn’t phase him.

 

It was the best thing he _could_ do, anyway.

 

-

 

_Cristiano doesn’t even question it anymore when he wakes up in the library again. He simply rolls his eyes and sits up, glaring at the red thread._

 

_He taps his fingers impatiently, looking around. He was not about to look at that stupid book again._

 

_When five minutes pass by, he looks at the clock._

 

_11:55 pm._

 

_“What the hell?” He hisses, slamming his hand on the table. The time wasn’t moving at all._

 

_Great. So his mind was forcing him do this shit._

 

_He rubs his forehead with irritation._

 

_He catches a familiar body slipping behind a shelf sneakily and scowls. “I’m not chasing after you anymore because you’re an asshole and I could give less than two fucks!”_

 

_No answer._

 

_Cristiano glared at the bookshelf where an arm was barely poking out. “Did you hear me!?”_

 

_Silence._

 

_”Fuck it.”_

 

_He practically jumps up and sprints over, grabbing the arm and yanking the man forward and slamming him against the bookshelf, trapping him there._

 

_Cristiano froze, heart dropping. Bright and surprised doe brown eyes looked back up at him. Leo stares at him with parted soft pink lips, blinking slightly._

 

_“Leo?”_

 

_Leo frowns. “What are you doing?”_

 

_Cristiano lets him go. “Wha—“_

 

_He stares._

 

_”What am I doing!? What are YOU doing!?” He snaps._

 

_Leo shrugs._

 

_“How did you get here?” He points an accusatory finger that Leo stares at weirdly. “And why do you keep running away from me?”_

 

_”I don’t know how I got here. This is your dream, why are you asking me the questions?” Leo sasses back._

 

 _Cristiano is so confused, his head is starting to throb._ _”Wait— you aren’t actually Leo, right?”_

 

_“I’m whatever you want me to be. It’s your mind.” Leo shrugs._

 

_”Well I want you to go away!” Cristiano snaps._

 

_”Then let me go.” Leo says calmly, eyes challenging. “I’m not the one willingly here.”_

 

_Cristiano steps back, and Leo turns after giving him a final glance, disappearing once again._

 

_”What the fuck is wrong with your brain, Cristiano?” He practically snarls to himself._

 

_He checks the clock._

 

_11:55 pm._

 

_”God fucking damn it.”_

 

_He stomps over and yanks the thread away from the table, walking around the shelves until a familiar white book is seen, and yanks the thread roughly._

 

_The book falls to the ground and opens._

 

_A picture of Leo running away from a scored goal is seen. What’s more eye catching is Cristiano in the photo, on his knees with a hand trying to grasp at Leo’s jersey._

 

_**Cristiano is dumbfounded on the floor, Iker in front of him with his hands raised in disbelief as Messi runs to the corner and is hugged by his teammates tightly.** _

 

_**Embarrassed, Cristiano stands from where he was on the floor, awakwardly walking back to his position with defeat.** _

 

_**When the whistle is blown, Cristiano climbs down the tunnel, looking up and seeing Messi pulling his jersey off his body. He must of startled him because Messi looks up at Cristiano, surprised.** _

 

_**They stood like that for a moment, just staring. Then Leo offers a small, sheepish smile— his cheeks flushing in embarrassed shyness.** _

 

_**”Hi.”** _

 

_**Thats all it takes, and Cristiano snaps.** _

 

_**He surges forward suddenly and slams Leo into the wall and presses his lips harshly against Leo’s, a strangled sound of surprise escaping the younger man.** _

 

_**Leo doesn’t fight him, pressed frozen against the wall as Cristiano kisses him with vigor.** _

__

_**When Cristiano pulls back, Leo is staring at him with shock. “Is this okay?” Cristiano asks with breathless want.** _

 

_**Dazed, Leo nods silently. That’s all the confirmation Cristiano needs to pull the supply closet door open and drag Leo into the darkness with him, door shutting as their lips met again.** _

_The clock strikes midnight._

 

_-_

 

Cristiano wakes up and throws his alarm clock against the wall.

 

-

 

“So Luka won?” Paulo asks him when Cristiano sits down after practice, muscles burning a pleasurable and familiar soreness.

 

”Yeah.” Cristiano shrugged, not really caring.

 

“At least Mo didn’t beat you. Then I’d definitely believe this award was bullshit. Especially with Leo not even being nominated for top three!” Paulo blabbers.

 

“The award ceremony tomorrow must be fun—“

 

”I’m not going.” Cristiano cuts in sharply, voice firm.

 

Paulo looks alarmed. “Why not!?”

 

 _Leo’s_ _probably_ _not_ _gonna_ _go_ _so_ _why_ _should_ _I?_ He thinks to himself with a scowl. _Luka_ _winning_ _just_ _gives_ _me_ _an_ _excuse_ _not_ _to_.

 

“I don’t want to.”

 

-

 

_When Cristiano wakes up again, he almost screams in fright when he sees Leo sitting across from him, staring intently into a book._

 

_”What the hell?” He snaps, sitting up. “Why are you over here? Shouldn’t you be trying to run away like a little mouse?”_

 

_Leo shrugs, not looking up at him._

 

_”You must find this really fucking amusing, huh?” Cristiano accuses. “I left Spain to get away from you and you’re still trying to haunt me.”_

 

_Leo snorts. “You say that as if I’m actually Lionel Messi.”_

 

_”Aren’t you? This is probably some type of Barça voodoo black magic shit.” Cristiano sits back with crosses arms, looking like a petulant child._

 

_“Or maybe it’s just you that can’t stop thinking about me.” Leo says in a bored tone, finally looking up at Cristiano with a piercing gaze._

 

_Cristiano flushes yet scowls as well. “Don’t flatter yourself.”_

 

_Leo rolls his eyes. “I’m just a figment of your imagination. Something you created in this weird chain of dreams you keep having.”_

 

_”Are you trying to tell me I’ve gone insane!?” Cristiano hisses._

 

_Leo shakes his head slowly. “I’m not saying that at all. Maybe you’re here for a reason.”_

 

_He stands, gazing at Cristiano for a while longer. “Maybe your mind is trying to tell you something.”_

 

_”And what could that possible be?” Cristiano asks sarcastically, so obviously annoyed._

 

_Leo is unfazed. “I don’t know. Figure it out.” He turns and goes left swiftly, disappearing._

 

_Cristiano scoffs to himself, standing as well and grabbing the red thread._

 

_”Picture time.” He says to himself in fake enthusiasm._

 

_The white book is lower on the shelf, and Cristiano yanks it down, opening it._

 

_A picture of Leo in his blue and white Argentina jersey covering his grinning mouth with Cristiano standing next to him in his red Portugal jersey stares back at him._

 

_**Cristiano approaches Leo, standing as close as he can but also far enough to not raise any eyebrows as he covers his mouth.** _

 

_**”Mine or yours afterwards?”** _

 

_**”Cris,” Leo laughs behind his hand.** _

 

_**”I’m asking serious questions here, Leo.” He grins, letting his eyes wonder over Leo’s bright face.** _

 

_**Leo shakes his head. “Whoever wins.”** _

 

_**”Looks like a tie.” Cristiano whispers again, letting his hand brush gently against Leo’s. Leo flushes, smiling a bit wider.** _

 

_**”Whoever had most the possession, then. Now stop asking such vulgar things with so many cameras around us.”**_

 

_**”You love it,” Cristiano runs a hand against his waist before walking off.** _

_The clock strikes midnight._

 

-

 

Cristiano wakes up, making no movement to get out of bed. He doesn’t realize the huge smile on his face until he looks in the mirror and it drops.

 

-

 

“Leo isn’t going to the award ceremony either!?”

 

Cristiano froze mid step out the door. He turns sharply to Paulo. “What?”

 

Paulo glances at him. “Leo just announced he isn’t going to the gala anymore.”

 

Cristiano stomps back over and grabs Paulo’s phone.

 

”Sudden personal issue?” Cristiano murmurs to himself. He doesn’t know why his heart suddenly skipped a beat.

 

”Leo was planning on going to the gala?” Cristiano asks then, confused.

 

“He confirmed he was last week, but just an hour ago he told media he wasn’t going to be able to go anymore.” Paulo says with a frown. “Maybe I’ll text him.”

 

”Maybe because Cristiano said he wasn’t going yesterday!” Juan laughs.

 

Cristiano snaps his head towards him, eyes wide. “What did you just say!?”

 

Juan blinks, startled. “Um....?”

 

”I have to go.” Cristiano say abruptly, walking fast out of the room after handing Paulo back his phone.

 

”That guy is really fucking weird.” Juan states, pointing to where Cristiano disappeared from.

 

Paulo sighs.

 

-

 

_Cristiano wakes up, hoping to see Leo again._

 

_Leo is sitting in front of him just like last time, still reading the same book._

 

_”Why aren’t you going to the gala?” Cristiano asks suddenly._

 

_Leo glances up at him. “I know as much as you do about that.”_

 

_Cristiano scowls. “Sorry. I forgot you were just a useless Leo version my head created.”_

 

_Leo laughs. “That’s funny.”_

 

_Cristiano glances over. The white book is sitting in front of him this time, the red thread tied around it._

 

_”Did you bring that here?”_

 

_”Yup.” Leo nods._

 

_”Are you like, some spirit guide for my mind?” Cristiano asks as he unties the red thread from around the book._

 

 _”Stop asking me questions. You made me to be here like this. I don’t know anything more than what you want me to know.” Leo turns back to his book._

 

_“Whatever.” Cristiano opens the book. He freezes._

 

_A picture of Leo and Neymar hugging stares back at him._

 

_**Cristiano stares back blankly at the screen in front of him. Defeated Bayern players turn to enter the tunnels as the Barcelona players celebrate.** _

 

_**Two in particular catch his eye. Two that have been catching his eye for a couple years now. Neymar hugs Leo tightly and Leo accepts it, holding the Brazilian to him tighter than the others.** _

 

_**Cristiano calmly turns the tv off.** _

 

_**Silence.** _

 

_**Days later, Leo appears in front of his house with a huge smile. “Did you see the match?” He asks happily as he walks into the house, taking off his thick jacket and hanging it on the coat rack near the door.** _

 

_**Cristiano stays quiet, slowly closing the door.** _

 

_**”I brought some soup since it was kinda cold—“** _

 

_**Leo cuts himself off, the house incredibly quiet. “Cris...?”** _

 

_**Cristiano stares blankly at the door.** _

 

_**”Is everything alright?”** _

 

_**”I don’t wanna do it anymore.”** _

 

_**Leo pauses. “What?”** _

 

_**”I don’t wanna do this anymore. Whatever this is we have. It’s getting boring.” Cristiano says bluntly.** _

 

_**Leo doesn’t say anything for a while. “What are you talking about?”** _

 

_**Cristiano turns to him with hard, cold, and unforgiving eyes. “I don’t want to fuck you anymore. You’re boring and I’ve had enough of you.”** _

 

_**Leo flinches.** _

 

_**”Besides— what the hell are you even doing? Coming here with soup and asking me how your game was? I’m not your fucking boyfriend. Sorry to disappoint. You were a nice play toy for the past few years but I’m over you. So how about you go away already?”** _

 

_**Leo holds the container tightly. “This.... you only did this for an easy fuck?”** _

 

_**”What else would it be?”** _

 

_**Cristiano shouldn’t even be surprised when Leo throws the hot soup all over him violently. The metal container hits his chest roughly, falling to the wooden floor with a loud clank as Leo yanks the door open, slamming it so loudly after him that the sound echoes throughout the entire house.** _

 

_**Cristiano stares blankly at the coat in front of him that was left behind.** _

 

_**It was for the best anyway.** _

_Cristiano slams the book shut. “What the hell was that!?” He snarls. Leo stares at him. “You tell me.”_

 

_”Why would you show me that shit?” Cristiano seethes. Leo narrows his eyes. “Me? I didn’t show you anything. You’re showing yourself that.”_

 

_Cristiano grits his teeth. “I don’t need you to remind me of the things I did years ago, alright?”_

 

_Leo stands, gaze murderous. “Why don’t you look into a fucking mirror? What you’re seeing is what you are. You’re seeing this because you want to see it. Not because of me.”_

 

_Cristiano glares back, but says nothing._

 

_Leo straightens, eyes cold. “Your time’s up.”_

 

_The clock strikes midnight._

 

_-_

 

Cristiano wakes up.

 

He punches a mirror.

 

-

 

“What happened to your hand!?” Paulo exclaims loudly, shrieking at the sight of his bandaged hand.

 

”Punched a mirror. No big deal.” Cristiano says bluntly, scrolling through Instagram and stopping at a post.

 

_Lionel Messi’s fantastic banger against PSV Eindhoven! Hattrick~_

 

Cristiano shuts his phone and walks out of the locker room silently.

 

-

 

_Cristiano wakes up. Leo is sitting next to him this time, once again reading that book._

 

_Cristiano makes no no effort to talk to him. He simply untangles the red thread from the book and opens it._

 

_A picture of Neymar, Leo, and himself are inside. The background has FIFA Ballon D’OR 2015 written on it._

 

_**Cristiano sat brooding as ever, face passive as Neymar and Leo have their little love fest with the reporters from next to him.** _

 

_**Why was he even here? He didn’t want to listen to Neymar praise his love for Leo and the reporters be all over the two of them. He’s gotten a total of what? Five questions?** _

 

_**Pointless.** _

 

_**Leo sits in the middle, but he’s all smiles— never even sparing him a glance. As if Cristiano wasn’t there at all. That probably hurt the most. Hurt, but not surprised.** _

 

_**Then they have to stand for a photo and Cristiano tries not to explode when he feels Leo’s hands against his back for the first time for what feels like years— only being months. Cristiano squeezes Leo’s waist tightly, seeing Leo’s face flinch slightly before regaining its chirpy expression from before.** _

 

_**Cristiano smiles a fake smile and the cameras click.** _

 

_**Leo slips away from him as they’re guided backstage once again.** _

 

_**Cristiano takes his mic off, handing it off to someone and walking tiredly over to his room. When he looks up, he catches Leo staring at him with an unreadable expression. When he’s caught, he simply enters his room without another glance towards him.** _

 

_**Cristiano laughs in spite of himself.** _

 

 

_Cristiano shuts the book softly._

 

_”Are you okay?” Leo asks from next to him, voice soft._

 

_”Why does it matter.” Cristiano says, emotionless. “This is just gonna keep happening.”_

 

_“You have to solve the past to move on into the future.” Leo states calmly._

_“I don’t need nor want your riddles,” Cristiano says calmly, voice tired and eyes dead. “Why are you even here.”_

_Leo stares deeply into him, eyes unwavering. “Maybe you should ask yourself that question— why am I here?”_

_Cristiano’s eyes snap up to his now, but Leo doesn’t look away, eyes dead set into his. “You don’t want to know,” Leo murmurs. “And that’s why you don’t know. Why you’ll never know.”_

_“Just leave me alone, damnit.” Cristiano now snarls, furious as his hands clench tightly into fists._

_“I’m nothing more than what you created of me in your mind. And then you want to ask me why I’m here?” Leo smiles a tiny, amused smile. Yet his eyes are still blank. “Your time’s up.”_

_The clock strikes midnight._

 

_-_

 

Cristiano lays in bed and thinks.

 

-

 

“Cristiano! Did you see the voting results!?” Paulo asks excitedly, a certain gleam in his eyes.

 

”I got second.” Cristiano shrugged. “I already knew that.”

 

”No no no— I’m talking about the votes!”

 

Cristiano’s brows furrowed. “Why is that important?”

 

”Well— do you know who voted for you this year!?”

 

”Paulo, will you get to the point alr—“ Cristiano began to snap, but a phone is shoved in his face.

 

_Captain, Argentina, Messi Lionel Andrés; Modric Luka, Mbappé Kylian, Ronaldo Cristiano._

Cristiano’s heart skips a beat.

 

”Leo voted for you!”

 

Cristiano practically runs out of the room, face red.

 

Paulo blinks in confusion. “Was it something I said?”

 

-

 

_Cristiano wakes up and grabs Leo’s hands, forcing the other man to look up at him with a raised eyebrow._

 

_”Why’d you vote for me?” He breaths the question out, eyes desperate._

 

_”Wrong Leo.” Leo answers simply._

 

_”Okay— why do you think you voted for me?”_

 

_Leo is silent for a moment. “Maybe you’re not the only one with somebody stuck on their mind constantly.”_

 

_Cristiano tightens his grip on his hand. For some reason, tears start burning his eyes, pooling._

 

_”I don’t know why I’m crying.” He admits in a croak, voice raw._

 

_“Yes you do.” Leo smiles slightly, reaching over and gently wiping the tears away from his face. Then he slides the book over._

 

_Cristiano unties the red thread._

 

_He opens the book._

 

_A picture of a bearded Leo with his returned brunette hair appears, a dark bruise under his eye. He’s being hugged sideways by Cristiano._

 

_**Cristiano can’t stop the glances he throws at Leo. How did Leo change so much so suddenly? The man before him looked broken and tired— defeated almost.** _

 

_**But then the game starts.** _

 

_**Cristiano couldn’t hold back the urge to talk to Leo even if he wanted to. “Vamos.”** _

 

_**Leo looks at him softly. “Hm?”** _

 

_**”Vamos.” Cristiano repeats, glancing at him once again. And Leo looks too physically hurt and fragile that Cristiano can’t help wrap an arm around the shorter man’s shoulders, hugging tightly.** _

 

_**Leo doesn’t say anything, but he smiles a small smile.** _

 

_**And of course Leo would score a banger like that when he’s been broken down to the lowest he possibly could go.** _

 

_**Cristiano’s walking down the tunnels when he sees Leo again, blood on the sleeves his blue undershirt and his jersey thrown over his shoulder. They’re crossing past one another, and Leo stares up at him with deep eyes. “Hi.”** _

 

_**Cristiano swallows thickly. “Messi.”** _

 

_**He brushes past and Leo’s voice stops him again.** _

 

_**“Lionel.”** _

 

_**Cristiano squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, his face pulling into a grimace. He turns to stare at Leo with pained eyes.** _

 

_**”My name is Lionel Messi.” Leo says with a confidence he didn’t have the first time, eyes filled with emotion.** _

 

_**”Cristiano Ronaldo.” Cristiano chokes out, heart bleeding out for the man in front of him.** _

 

_**And Leo smiles that bright smile once again— a smile that could never be hidden by a beard, or a bruise, or even blood.** _

 

_**”It’s nice to meet you.”** _

_Cristiano gently shuts the book, tears freely streaming down his cheeks as he shoves the book off the table violently._

 

_Leo stares at him, expressionless. “Why’d you do it?”_

 

_”Do what!?” Cristiano holds back a choked sob._

 

_”Why’d you make me leave you three years ago?” Leo asks bluntly._

 

_”I don’t know!”_

 

_”Things were getting better. Were getting back to the way they were before.” Leo says, voice quiet. “Then... Then why did you leave?”_

_Cristiano sniffles, his mind racing. All the images, the dreams, the conversations... they race through his head like a revolving door. A merry go round put on the highest possible speed._

_Why did he make Leo leave all those years ago? Why did he leave when things seemed to finally be gettting better?_

_“I... I don’t know.” Cristiano whispers._

_“Yes you do.” Leo states calmly, eyes dull._

_He did._

_“You just don’t want to admit it to yourself.”_

_He really didn’t._

_“I... I was scared.” He choked out._

_Leo leans forward towards him, eyes serious. “Why?”_

_“I was... I was scared because...”_

_Cristiano stops. The tears stop flowing. His lips part and his heart blooms._

_“I was scared of loving you.”_

_Leo leans back, and Cristiano can see relief enter his eyes, and shiny tears growing in the brown irises. “Your time’s up.”_

 

_The clock strikes midnight._

 

_-_

 

Cristiano wakes.

 

-

 

“I need Leo’s house passcode.” Cristiano says the minute he sees the man he’s looking for.

 

Paulo does a double take, eyes comically wide, and mouth just as open. “Ummm What!?”

 

“I need the passcode to Leo’s house in Barcelona. For the gates.” Cristiano states.

 

”Why!?”

 

Cristiano shrugs.

 

Paulo stares at him, taken aback.

 

Cristiano rolls his eyes. “Is it still 1010?”

 

Paulo nods slowly, mouth and eyes still wide open.

 

”Of course it is... He’s so fucking basic.” Cristiano grumbled to himself, leaving the room.

 

Paulo turns to a shocked Juan with a dropped jaw. “WHAT!?!?”

 

-

 

Cristiano sprints up the long driveway after entering the passcode into the gates, going up to the door and knocking fast and loud with his fist while ringing the doorbell at the same time, just as quick and desperate.

 

It takes a few minutes, but the doors finally open and a very annoyed Leo appears, soft hair falling over his forehead and into his sleepy eyes. His feet are bare and he’s wearing a plain white T-shirt and baby blue pajama bottoms, his smooth shaven cheeks pink from sleeping.

 

”What the fuck do you want this early in the mor—“

 

He sees Cristiano’s face and froze, anger disappearing and complete shock replacing his expression. 

 

“Cristiano!?”

 

Cristiano is breathless as he stares at a very confused and surprised Leo, whose eyes are wary and guarded as he stood frozen in the doorway.

 

“I think I made a mistake.” Cristiano blurts out, breathing heavily as his heart beats fast against his rib cage.

 

Leo is silent for a moment, and then he blinks, tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy. “Shouldn’t you talk to your manager about that then?”

 

Cristiano laughs despite himself, surging forward and kissing Leo roughly, letting his lips slide relentlessly against the Barça man’s. They move into the house, the door shutting as Cristiano kisses him with desperation, Leo’s hands clenching his jacket as he kisses back just as hard, not even question Cristiano’s actions.

 

“You idiot,” Cristiano then says after pulling back, letting out a small chuckle. “I don’t mean about Madrid.”

 

Leo stares up at him in a daze. “I don’t understand.”

 

“I love you.” The words leave his lips before he can think, a wide smile stretching over his lips.

 

Leogrins, a certain type of happiness shining in his eyes. “Is that so?”

 

Cristiano dips down to seal their lips once more walking the younger man into his room and shutting the door.

 

-

 

_Leo sits across from him, a small heartfelt smile on his lips as he looks at Cristiano with content._

_The clock strikes midnight._

_“Is my time up yet?” Cristiano breathes out in a soft whisper, eyes loving to the man sitting across from him. The red thread is wrapped up in a tangle around their joint hands that rested against the white book beneath, soft against the warm skin. Cristiano traces his fingers lightly against Leo’s hand, without a care in the world._

_With a gentle smile, Leo shakes his head slowly, barely noticeable. “No,” He says softly, eyes bright. “Not anymore.”_

_The clock strikes 12:01 am._

_Something in the air remains._

  


**Author's Note:**

> Red Thread; symbol to the “Red Thread of Fate” where in Japanese and Korean culture, a red thread is tied between two people destined to be together.
> 
> Also LMAO that gif of Cris with Leo and Ney during the FIFA Ballon D’or 2015 always kills me because he just looks so pissed to be there with those two kissing each other’s asses xD No one can convince me otherwise!
> 
> I DID IT!
> 
> Day one = the only day I have finished 
> 
> RIP me
> 
> If I don’t see a lot of Cressi fics for me to enjoy this week imma be pissed y’all.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! This took me a while throughout multiple days, but the end result was worth it!
> 
> And just so no ones confused:
> 
> \- No that wasn’t actually Leo inside of Cristiano’s head (that’d be cool af tho)  
> \- No Cristiano is not crazy  
> -Promise
> 
> d^.^b


End file.
